


why not

by sevdrag (seventhe)



Series: tumblr mugged me in a back alley [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 16:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17604962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhe/pseuds/sevdrag
Summary: @elenorasweet asked for an unsure, self-sabotaging Clint with BPD traits. Clint thinks he’s messed everything up, but he’ll let Bucky tell him that to his face.





	why not

Hiding on the roof was always the best plan Clint could come up with when he inevitably fucked something up. The roof was nice: brisk city wind, empty space, high enough that he could entertain himself picking out details of the streets below, and - the best part - solitary. At this point he’d been up here so much that he’d squirreled away a little nest, tucked behind one of the ventilation boxes that shared his space. Which was why he was now lying on his stomach, fuzzy blanket wrapped around him, arms folded under a pillow and head hanging slightly off the edge so that he could play the alphabet game with license plates, so far down.

It was the dumbest thing, too, and he wished he could take it back - just like so many fucking stupid things in his life. No wonder his best escape was up here on the roof _alone_ : it was a wonder that anybody even put up with his attitude anymore.

His left ear hearing aid beeped at him, a warning, and then JARVIS said quietly: “Sir, Mr. Barnes is at the door. Shall I let him through?”

Goddamnit. Clint had already fucked this up once, he didn’t need the opportunity to fuck it up again — but, he thought, he probably deserved whatever telling-off this would be. He deserved to look Bucky in the face as he told Clint they weren’t friends anymore. “Sure,” he said. “Why not.”

He could barely hear the sound of the door sliding open and shut behind him, with the high wind in his aids, so he stayed where he was, tugging the blanket a little bit tighter around himself.

To his surprise, it took a while for Bucky to appear in his peripheral vision, and when he did he was holding another pillow and - what? - Clint’s other roof blanket.

“You found my stash,” Clint said, dumbly.

“Well, yeah,” Bucky replied, as if it wasn’t weird at all. “Was coming up here so much I wanted to find a place for my own blanket stash. Turns out, second place I looked, someone had beat me to it.”

“You come up here a lot?”

Bucky carefully fluffed the pillow, and then laid out on his stomach next to Clint. He stayed propped up on his elbows, though, head tipped at an angle towards him. Clint tried his hardest not to look over at Bucky, but he couldn’t help himself: Bucky’s profile, his cheekbones, his stubble. Clint always ended up looking, even when it got him into trouble. Like this morning.

“At first I just liked being up high and being alone,” Bucky said. “But then I started finding these purple blankets and nice pillows and thought, maybe if I came up, there’d be somebody to hang out with.”

“Oh,” Clint said, not really sure how to take that. “I’m not great company.”

“You gotta stop doing that,” Bucky murmured, and it was soft and warm and Clint couldn’t take it: Bucky being all kind, when Clint knew he’d fucked up another friendship. He hated the thought of never hanging out with Bucky again, but that was just what happened with him.

“Look, you may as well say it,” Clint burst out, because he couldn’t just sit there and pretend he hadn’t been the idiot who kissed Bucky this morning over their coffee, tasting like mocha and sweetness, and ruining the comfort of their usual sarcastic banter.

“Say what?” Bucky prompted him, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

“I’m sorry I did it,” Clint said in response, lowering his head to rest it against the pillow. “We can ignore it, if you want?”

“That isn’t what I was gonna say.” Bucky scooted a little closer, leaned in. “I actually came up here to see if I could get another one.”

Clint blinked, and frozen, because that was the last thing he’d expected to hear.

“You don’t,” he began, and shook his head into the pillow. “You probably wanna stay away from this disaster.”

“Clint,” Bucky said. It was the tone of voice that says, don’t ignore this. Clint lifted his head.

Instead of saying anything, Bucky leaned in and brushed Clint’s lips with his own: soft, and warm, just a simple peck that dragged a second too long before he pulled away.

“I’m game,” Bucky murmured, “and it ain’t gonna mess anything up unless we let it. So don’t let it.”

Clint laughed, part disbelieving and part sarcastic. “Like it’s that easy.”

Bucky leaned in again. “It could be,” he said. “C’mon. Try it with me.”

Clint shrugged, helplessly, because every part of him wanted to agree, except the voices in his brain telling him that it was stupid, that he’d be alone forever. He swallowed, and then shoved all those thoughts down the back of his brainstem to grin back at Bucky, a bit wild.

“Sure,” he said, echoing himself just minutes before. “Why not.”

Bucky’s grin went crooked with fondness as he leaned in for another kiss.


End file.
